


Greater Than

by SuburbanSun



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, Co-workers, Community Theatre, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Less Than 5K
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:12:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the world's a stage, but is this one big enough for rival scientists Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz? A Fitzsimmons Community Theatre AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greater Than

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captainpuertoricoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainpuertoricoh/gifts).



> Written for captainpuertoricoh for TheFitzsimmonsNetwork’s More Than That, Less Than 5k exchange! (To be fair, I took it as more of a More Than 5k, Less Than 5.5k exchange.) Her prompt: “Theatre AU! Specifically, the ‘we absolutely hate each other but we're the romantic leads so I guess we have to make this work AU’.” Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Mega thanks to ardentaislinn and eclecticmuse for beta help!

“How’s my star?” Anne Weaver greeted Jemma Simmons with a quick hug, ignoring Jemma’s admonishing look.

“No need to jinx it, Anne.”

“Nonsense.” Anne took a seat in the front row of the Act One Community Playhouse theatre and indicated for Jemma to join her. “You’ve been my star every summer for six years. That’s not about to change now.”

Jemma pretended to grumble, but hid a grin. Her audition the day prior _had_ gone quite well, after all. It had felt good to be onstage again. “Do you have a lot of men coming in to read for Henry?”

Anne nodded, flipping through her casting notebook. “I wanted them all to do a chemistry read with you.”

Skimming over the audition sides that Anne passed her, Jemma’s eyes brightened. “Ooh, you _finally_ took my subtle hints and wrote a love story?”

Anne raised an eyebrow. “Subtle?”

“What?” Jemma shrugged innocently. “All I did was tell you repeatedly that some love scenes with hot men would be fine.”

“Well, you’re in luck. My muse felt quite romantic when I wrote this one.” She tipped her head toward Jemma conspiratorially. “Let’s just say you’ll need to buy a few extra tubes of Chapstick for all the kissing you’ll be doing.” They both giggled, just as the door to the theatre opened.

“Is this the audition for _Greater Than_?” Jemma craned her neck around to see a tall, handsome, dark-skinned man with a lovely smile. She grinned back at him, then at Anne. _And we’re off to the races._

  
  
Hours later, Jemma was beginning to think that she’d never have chemistry with anyone ever again. She slumped in her seat, fanning herself with her sides. “I think today might be a bust.”

“You may be right,” said Anne, looking almost as defeated. She checked her watch. “We’ve only got one more scheduled. Then I suggest we pop over to the Boiler Room for a stiff drink.”

“Indeed!”

“Sorry-- I’m here to audition for the play?” The voice came from the back of the theatre, and sounded distinctly Scottish. And distinctly familiar. Jemma stiffened, unwilling to turn around lest her suspicions be confirmed.

“Come on down! It’s Leo?”

“Fitz, actually.”

 _Goddamn_. He was one of Jemma’s least favorite co-workers, and now he was stepping up onto the stage. _Jemma’s_ stage. What the hell was he doing there? _Trying to one-up me inside of work and out, is he?_

“Jemma, Fitz is our last Henry, so could you--” Anne gestured toward him. Jemma’s incredulous gaze flicked from Anne to Fitz, who flipped through his pages onstage, standing there in the stupid Converses he always wore that Jemma had _repeatedly_ pointed out were inappropriate for a work environment. Jemma heaved a huge sigh before standing to join him.

“So Fitz, _Greater Than_ is a love story-- Henry and Caroline are in nearly every scene together, so there needs to be a certain chemistry. Jemma is our Caroline, so I’d like you to read through this scene together. See how things work.”

Fitz nodded, taking a deep breath and meeting Jemma’s eyes for the first time since he’d entered. He looked nervous. _Good_. Maybe he’d do terribly.

 

After they’d finished the scene, Jemma rushed offstage and back to her seat without a backward glance at Fitz. Once she knew he couldn’t see, she made a face at Anne-- _what a nightmare_ , she hoped it communicated. But her hopes were dashed the second she sat down.

“He’s perfect, isn’t he?” Anne whispered. Jemma’s eyes widened.

“Perfect? More like perfectly awful!” Jemma spared a glance at Fitz, still standing on the stage studying his script. She ticked off her observations on her fingers, keeping her voice low. “He was awkward, stumbled over his words, had _clearly_ never performed before…”

“Yes, but that’s precisely what I’m looking for!” Anne sat up straighter, eyes bright. “Henry isn’t your typical romantic lead. Those well-muscled, symmetrical actor types we’ve seen today? Those aren’t my Henry. That--” She nodded at Fitz, “--is my Henry.”

Jemma’s gaze flew to the stage. Fitz’s mouth turned up in a little smirk-- one that, admittedly, she’d once found appealing. That was before he’d revealed his true nature: impatient, condescending, maddeningly brilliant, and worst of all, highly valued by SciTech’s top brass. He was Jemma’s bitter rival at work, and by the pleased look on Anne’s face, he was about to be her bitter rival onstage, too.

 

\---

 

She may have gotten a bit soaked by the rain en route to their first rehearsal, but Jemma threw open the theatre door with a smile. Besides opening night, this was her favorite part of the summer-- the thrill of a new show. Of new opportunities to--

Spend entirely too much time with Leo Fitz, apparently.

She tried to keep the frown off her face once she spotted him, hovering awkwardly upstage, not speaking to anyone else.

“Jemma, there you are!” Anne beckoned to her from the front row. “I was telling the others-- today, we’re just going to connect a bit, do some breathing exercises. Everyone’s paired up, except--” Her pointed look said it all. _Everyone but Fitz._ Jemma trudged up the stairs to join him.

"You look nice,” he said, one corner of his mouth tilting up.

She scowled as she tried to avoid dripping everywhere. “How’d _you_ manage to stay so dry?” The theatre was only a few blocks away from the SciTech facility; with rush hour traffic, there was no way he’d driven and still beaten her.

“It’s actually this really cool umbrella-less technology I invented,” he said excitedly, gesturing widely. “Um, see, there’s this device that exerts a force field--”

Anne’s voice cut him off, and Jemma was grateful to not have to hear about whatever exciting new developments the engineering lab had cooked up. Thanks to Fitz’s proposals, the engineers had won funding over the biochemists _twice_ recently, and Jemma still seethed about it.

“I want you to look into each other’s eyes and take a series of deep breaths. Try to match your partner.”

Jemma dragged her gaze up to Fitz’s blue eyes and tried to relax. He looked apprehensive, but nodded slightly and focused on her. They both breathed in, then out, in unison.

“The force field, it--” Fitz whispered. Frowning, Jemma shushed him. It was _breathing_ time, not _talking_ time. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s alright,” she whispered back. They breathed in and out again and again, holding eye contact awkwardly. After a few moments, the curiosity that had been bugging her for days got the better of her, and she broke their silence.

“Why’d you audition, anyway?”

They took a matching deep breath, and he shrugged. “No reason. Why did you?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know I’m always in the summer production.” She _knew_ he knew. She always pinned a poster up on the SciTech breakroom corkboard, and he always had to make some little comment. _You’re practically a celebrity, Simmons_ , or _Maybe I’ll see you there opening night, Simmons_. He always found _some_ way or another to mock her.

“Maybe I just thought I’d be as great at it as you.” He put his hands on his hips, grinning smugly. “I was on my university’s improv troupe, you know.”

“Well, Fitz, improv _won’t_ save you here. Being in a play requires _preparation._ You--”

“Jemma, Fitz--” Anne cut in. “Breathe.”

They both let out a little sigh, shifting again to fully face each other, arms at their sides. A few more moments of silent breathing passed.

“And one more round!” Anne announced. Fitz looked as if he wanted to say something, so after one more breath, Jemma cocked an eyebrow and waved her hand in a _go on_ gesture.

“I figured I would just make like a bird,” he said, and she frowned.

“What?”

“Wing it?” Fitz bit his lower lip to suppress a pleased grin, and she rolled her eyes so hard it was kind of painful. Fortunately, Anne clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention and directed them to sit in the first row of seats. Jemma sat as far away from Fitz as possible.

 

\---

 

The first cast read-through was a challenge, to say the least.

“You’re playing opposite him, not on the opposite side of the _room_ as him,” Anne whispered to Jemma as everyone took five.

“ _He_ chose to sit thirteen seats down from _me_ ,” Jemma hissed back before scowling at Anne’s skeptical look.

  
\---

 

The next three rehearsals were much the same. The cast read the script backward and forward, then split apart to write analyses of their individual characters. Jemma’s, of course, was the longest, clocking in at three pages front-and-back.

When she sneaked a glance at Fitz, he didn’t even appear to be writing, just sketching on his notebook paper. _Ugh, Fitz. Typical._

 

\---

 

By the fourth rehearsal, even Jemma could sense that her reticence to work with Fitz was getting on Anne’s nerves. Or, at least, she figured it out when Anne banished the pair of them backstage to hunt for a particular prop. A prop that, after 45 minutes, Jemma didn’t think existed.

Fitz neatly slotted the boxes they’d ransacked during their search into a high, Tetris-like stack that seemed far sturdier than it had any right to be. Jemma tried not to be impressed.

“Is that what you do down in the engineering lab every day? Feng shui?”

He huffed, switching off the backstage light, and she followed him down the hall toward the main theatre.

“Too busy with your disgusting specimens to come down and see for yourself?”

“Excuse me? My work with those ‘disgusting specimens’ won me a summer grant!” She sped up and crossed her arms, walking side-by-side with him.

“Yeah, well, engineering got a summer grant, too. $7,000.”

Jemma was still bitter about the fact that her department’s grant had only been $5,000, but she didn’t want to let him know it. “I imagine you’ll spend it all on things to blow up,” she said as she pushed open the theatre doors, and the affronted look on his face made her smile.

“Fitz, Jemma, you’re back! Empty-handed, I see.”

“We’re just not sure that--” Jemma began, but Anne cut her off.

“I’m glad you two getting along, at least. While you were gone, I went over the script with everyone else, and I think off-book by Friday should be fine, don’t you?”

“Friday?” Fitz asked. Jemma glanced at him, and knew her expression was as shocked as his. Friday was in five days.

“That should be plenty of time for my perennial star, right, Jemma?”

Jemma grinned tightly. “Of course.”

“And Fitz, if you need help-- work with Jemma. You’re in all the same scenes, after all.” Anne turned to the others. “Everyone off book by Friday, yes? Perfection.”

Perfection was not the word Jemma would use. Her eyes drifted to Fitz, who was frozen in place, clutching his script tightly with both hands. Even as experienced as Jemma was, to memorize the script inside and out in five days would require a little help. And _he_ would require even more.

 

\---

 

“This isn’t a big deal, Jemma. He needs you more than you need him,” she whispered to herself. She smoothed her blouse and squared her shoulders, peeking into the engineering lab. She spotted Fitz easily, tinkering with something and wearing a pair of safety glasses that Jemma thought should have made him look far more ridiculous than they did. She took a small step into the lab.

“Fitz?”

Something metallic clanked onto the floor as Fitz’s head jerked up. He immediately pulled off the glasses and brought a hand to scratch at his neck. “Jemma. You’re, um. Here.”

“Where else would I be?” Off his blank look, she realized how silly that statement had been and continued. “Upstairs. Of course. In the biochem lab.”

“So...why are you here? I mean, not that I don’t--” Fitz knelt down to pick up the tool he’d dropped, placing it on the table and moving to stand in front of her. “You’ve just never been down here before.”

She took a deep breath and spoke quickly. “I think we should run lines together.”

He looked surprised. “You do?”

“Well, today’s Monday, and we’re to have the script completely memorized by Friday. Anne runs a tight ship. She’s gotten very cross before with actors who haven’t respected her deadlines.”

“You?”

Jemma laughed lightly. “Well, no, of course not _me._ ” His mouth turned up in a little smile, and she couldn’t help but smile back. “So, what do you think? You, me? Lines?”

“Um. Yes! Of course. Lunchtime in the cafeteria? I also usually take a tea break around 4, so maybe we could--”

“--run lines over a cup of Earl Grey?” His smile grew, and again, hers did, too. “I’ll see you then.”

  
\---

 

“It’s ‘I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again,’ not ‘I thought I’d never see her again,’” Jemma said, spearing a tomato with her fork.

“There’s a difference?”

 _Honestly_.

  
\---

 

“You give me that look every time you--” He drummed his fingers on his closed script. “Every time you--” His eyes darted to the stack of papers, and Jemma gave him a warning glare. “Every time you…” With a sigh, he quickly opened the script, flipping to the appropriate page. “A-ha! I was right. You give me that look every time you think I’m not looking back.”

Jemma reached over and gently pried the pages from his grasp, shutting the script and setting his mug of tea atop it.

“Fine. Where were we?”

  
\---

 

“I’m always going to be by your side. I don’t care how difficult that is, but every day you’re going to look over and see me there beside you. That’s the way it is, Henry.”

Fitz cleared his throat, looking expectant. She furrowed her brow. He cleared his throat again, louder this time. Had a bite of his sandwich gone down the wrong pipe?

Finally, he gave in and spoke. “‘That’s the way it is, Henry, because I’m starting to think you’re my best friend in the world.’ You forgot that part.”

Jemma flushed. She’d been doing so well since they’d started running lines together. A slow grin grew on his face, and he tipped his chair back on two legs.

“The star of the show doesn’t know all her lines yet,” he said, tutting. “Better make a cheat sheet for Friday.”

“We have three days.” Jemma grumpily stabbed at her salad. It had just been _part_ of a line, not even a _whole_ line.

“Hope three days is enough.”

“Oh, be quiet. I thought you had a photographic memory, anyway. You kept harping on that in your last proposal for end-of-year surplus funding.” It had been incredibly annoying-- almost as annoying as it would have been had he actually gotten the funding over Jemma and her department, but thankfully, her presentation had been unimpeachable. “Why don’t you have everything memorized yet?”

“A photographic memory for schematics and blueprints, sure. I can take apart and assemble a device no problem. It’ll even be improved.” He let his chair fall forward. “That’s science. Science comes easy. This takes work.”

She held his gaze for a moment before returning to her salad, neglecting to tell him that she felt the exact same way, and only knew the script so well thanks to hours of practice alone at home. They might have worked for the same company and been cast in the same play, but there was no reason to let him think they had anything _else_ in common.

 

\---

 

Friday’s off-book rehearsal went better than expected. Fitz only flubbed a line and loudly cursed twice during the read-through. Much to Jemma’s surprise, he kept improving-- the subsequent weeks proved that he knew the material cold.

Of course, she partially chalked that up to her excellent preparation habits, as they continued to work together during the workweek. It only seemed to make sense, since they were already in the same building.

But something nagged at Jemma with each passing rehearsal. The day that they planned to put the show on its feet and begin blocking swiftly approached-- and that meant all the passionate kissing and scandalous bedroom scenes would soon have to be performed rather than glossed over. Jemma felt completely unprepared, and that was _not_ a familiar feeling.

“So how’s the toxin analysis coming?” Fitz asked around a bite of sandwich. They’d progressed to the point where only half of lunch was spent running lines; the other half was devoted to talk of their projects, brainstorming sessions, or even chatter about favorite movies or music they liked. Jemma tried to steer them back onto work or theatre topics, but her effort to do so was becoming more and more half-hearted.

Now, she narrowed her eyes at him, mulling over an idea she’d had days ago. Best to pull off the BandAid. “We need to practice kissing.”

He coughed a few times, pounding on his chest before swallowing his bite. His face was red, and he wordlessly watched her like she’d just told him she wanted to burn the building down.

“Honestly, Fitz, we’re going to have to kiss _on stage_. _In front of people_. Quite a bit, actually. Don’t you want to do it well?”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah?”

“So the best course of action is to prepare.” She folded her hands atop her script and leaned forward. “We can’t practice _here_ , of course.” He shook his head in agreement, still looking scandalized. “That would be completely inappropriate. So perhaps you come to my place. Thursday night? We can do a complete runthrough, just the two of us, and… not skip over the challenging parts.”

“Um, okay.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be there.”

“And Fitz?” She balled up her trash and stood, tucking her script in her bag. He looked up at her with wide eyes. “Bring breathmints.”

 

\---

 

Thursday evening, Jemma slipped out of the lab as early as possible, determined to beat Fitz to her apartment. Once there, she surveyed the living areas-- neat, but not excessively so. She resisted the impulse to tidy up. After all, it was only _Fitz_. Their recent hours spent together may have made her less frustrated with him-- sometimes even eager to see him, when she wanted to tell him about a breakthrough in the lab or a theory about the new season of Doctor Who-- but she felt no need to _impress_ the man.

When he knocked at 7 sharp she was straightening her throw pillows anyway. She hurried to the door, then waited a few beats before swinging it open.

“Hi, Fitz.”

“Hi. I, um. I didn’t know what was appropriate to bring to the house of the person you were about to practice kissing with, so…” He held up a bottle of wine, and she took it thankfully. Wine would definitely help.

Twenty minutes later, they were settled on opposite ends of her couch, scripts out and wine in hand.

“Should we just… take it from the top?” he asked, taking a sip.

“Actually, I think we should get right to it.” She flipped through her pages. “Page 18? It’s the first scene where we-- um, you know.”

“Kiss?”

She nodded quickly, swallowing more wine. He scooted a bit closer to her on the couch, finding the page in his script.

“Okay,” he said, then started in on his lines. “Caroline, what the hell were you thinking? You could have--”

“You know what, actually, Fitz?” She took a breath and sat up a little straighter, setting her script on the coffee table. Her heart was beating fast, and she knew of only one time-tested way of dealing with nerves-- just powering through. “I really think we should focus on the _one_ thing we need to practice, don’t you? We’ve got our lines down.”

“Oh, so…” He looked down at the couch, the floor, anywhere but at her. “Just get to the kissing, then?”

“I think so.” Now it was her turn to scoot closer. They were still on separate cushions, but she could easily reach up and slide her hand over the stubble on his jaw and around to the back of his neck-- if she were so inclined. Which she wasn’t. But the show must go on. “Let’s just do a test run. A dress rehearsal, if you will. And then once we have that down, we can do a full runthrough.”

“Okay.”

“So…” What was she nervous about? It was _Fitz_ she was kissing, and it wasn’t even real kissing, anyway. It was just for show. Goodness, she didn’t even need to use _tongue_ if she didn’t want to. (Which she didn’t, of course.) Jemma took a deep breath. She could do this. She was going to kiss Leo Fitz, and she was _not_ going to like it.

She nodded minutely, and tilted her head up toward him. He moved even closer to her on the couch and brought his hand up to lightly cup the back of her head, moving incrementally closer until she could feel his breath on her face. In spite of the wine, she could still detect the faint scent of breathmint, which made her suppress a grin, and oddly, made her feel comfortable enough to close the space between them. Then her lips were on his, and his fingers were in her hair, and suddenly her hand was on his bicep and she didn’t remember putting it there. Something about the feeling of his lips on hers was making her feel more buzzed from the wine than she’d thought, and she deepened the kiss. Or maybe he did. She couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she was sliding her tongue against his and tasting mint and pinot noir and running her hand up his shoulder to thread into his curls, and oh god.

She liked it.

She pulled back suddenly, shifting to her end of the couch and pulling her script onto her lap. He looked dazed.

“Alright, so that’s-- sorted.”

“Huh?”

“I think we can cut straight to the runthrough, don’t you?”

“Um, sure.”

Jemma tucked her hair behind her ears, hoping she didn’t appear as shaken up as she felt. She started in on her lines, her attention only partially on the words she recited.

More than thirty kisses in the script-- she’d counted-- and they were about to practice every one of them. She wasn’t sure she’d survive the night.

  
  
Somehow she did, and once she shut the front door behind him, she lightly banged her head against it a few times. A whole host of thoughts swirled through her mind, but one stood out among the rest: she could _not_ have a crush on _Leo Fitz_.

And yet, she totally did.

 

\---

 

Jemma Simmons didn’t crush on men without formulating a plan. Normally, the plan was to simply ask them out, or flirt with them until they asked her. With Fitz, though, the plan was complete and utter avoidance.

She had to see him at rehearsal, of course, and occasionally at work. But she made herself suddenly unavailable for Friday’s lunchtime study date, and when they met up during lunches the following week, she kept their conversation strictly businesslike. No friendly chatter necessary. They were just colleagues and co-stars. That was that.

For his part, Fitz tried to continue the tenuous friendship they’d developed. She’d simply steer the conversation away from his thoughts on the new Doctor, or ignore the text he sent telling her he’d read and enjoyed a play she’d recommended.

He never brought up practicing kissing again… though she supposed that had really been her crusade.

_Smooth move, Jemma._

Opening night arrived before she felt ready, and suddenly she stood alone in a dressing room, finishing her makeup and sort of freaking out. She was applying blush when Fitz poked his head in.

“Are you decent?”

“Shouldn’t you have asked before you looked?”

He shrugged, flushing a bit and stepping into the room. “Ready?”

She turned away from the mirror to face him, brow furrowed. “Not really.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just… nervous. Can you believe it?” She laughed, but it was the kind of high, breathy laugh she knew meant she was about to go insane. “I’ve done this a million times. Well. Six. Why am I nervous now?”

He stepped closer to her and reached out a hand. It hovered in midair between them for a beat before landing on her arm, squeezing gently. “You’re going to do great.”

“How do you know?” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, and she leaned into his touch, just a bit.

“I just do.”

She scoffed. How could he know when she herself didn’t? He sighed, letting his hand drop, and she tried not to miss the contact. “You’re Jemma Simmons. You’re… magnificent. At everything you do. So, you’re going to do what you always do.”

As she watched his face-- completely earnest, no trace of a smirk-- Jemma felt warm all over. She sniffled and stepped closer, rising on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. He nodded, turning for the door.

She stopped him before he could leave with a soft, “Fitz?” He spun around quickly, a question in his eyes. “Maybe, after the show, we could--”

“Five minutes! Five minutes!” the stage manager shouted into the room.

“Thank you, five,” said Jemma as the woman retreated.

“Maybe we could what?”

“Oh! Um, nothing.” It had been a bad idea, anyway. And they had a show to put on. “Break a leg, Fitz.”

  
\---

 

The performance went without a hitch, and Jemma felt indebted to Fitz for that. The moment they’d shared backstage had somehow made her feel both calm and capable.

Something had gotten into him, too, as he put on a performance Jemma would not have thought possible a few weeks prior. She caught his eye as they held hands during the curtain call and smiled as gratefully as she knew how, hoping he would understand.

 

\---

 

Every summer, Jemma threw the opening night after-party at her place. It seemed like the least she could do to show her appreciation to her cast and crew. This year, the crowd thrummed with excitement-- everyone was high on the adrenaline of a successful opening performance.

She’d invited Fitz, of course. She just couldn’t figure out if she hoped he would show up or not.

As Skye, her favorite member of the tech team, handed her a beer, she decided that she _did_ hope he’d come. She just wouldn’t spend any time alone with him. No, it was best that they keep their relationship cordial and professional for the remainder of the production. Then they could go right back to being co-workers who fought tooth and nail over funding and had little else in common.

An hour into the party, she hadn’t seen him yet, and her living room was beginning to feel overcrowded. She slipped away from her conversation with Anne and Skye to sneak onto the balcony for some fresh air. And there he was, leaning his elbows against the railing and sipping a beer.

“Fitz!”

He turned quickly, leaning back against the railing and smiling at her. “Sorry, I didn’t want to pull you away. You’re quite the hostess in there.”

She stepped out further onto the balcony, matching his pose. “Well, they’re a great cast and crew. We’re lucky to have them.”

“Yeah, we are pretty lucky.”

“You did wonderfully out there tonight, Fitz.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, but ducked his head to hide a smile.

“I’m not. I mean, I was.” She twisted in place to face him, her hip against the rail. “Initially, sure. But not tonight.”

He turned to face her too, taking a long pull from his beer. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You were… you were brilliant.”

“Oh, I don’t know about--”

“No, Jemma.” He reached out and brushed the side of her arm lightly, and she felt a tingle at his touch. “You were.”

She smiled at him in the dim moonlight, and she could feel her commitment to staying away from him-- her commitment to not really, _really_ wanting to kiss him-- slipping further and further away. She tilted her head as a thought occurred to her.

“You never did tell me why you auditioned to begin with.”

He broke her gaze, staring down at the bottle in his hand and picking at the label with a thumbnail. “Had to. Bosses’ orders.”

“What do you mean?”

Finally he met her eyes again, looking abashed. “The higher-ups at SciTech, they, um. They told me I needed to find a way to improve my interpersonal skills. Seems I wasn’t the best at interacting with colleagues.”

She couldn’t decide if that was adorable, hilarious, or just incredibly accurate. So she laughed, but tried to be gentle about it. “Really? They said that?”

“Yep. Called me up to the 9th floor and everything. They gave me a list of options. I wasn’t a big fan of the idea of group meditation.”

She giggled again. “So that’s why you chose the play?”

“Well, no.” He looked down again. “That was because of you.”

Jemma felt a jolt in her stomach, perhaps leftover adrenaline from such an exciting night. “Me?”

“I just… always thought we’d get on, you know?” He looked back up, and his eyes burned bright even in the dim light. “If we weren’t constantly at odds at work. And I knew you always did the summer play, so I figured why not try it? I never thought…”

_Never thought what? Never thought you’d get cast as the lead? Never thought we’d spend so much time together? Never thought kissing each other would be so incredibly thrilling?_

He took a small step toward her, and was she imagining things, or did his gaze flicker down to her lips? She swallowed, heart thumping, and suddenly all the adrenaline that had been zipping through her veins all night took hold, and she rose up on her tiptoes and drew him down by the back of the neck to kiss her.

He didn’t hesitate, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her close. He made a little humming sound as he opened his mouth to her, kissing her deeply and exactly how she liked. She pressed her chest against his, one hand tugging at his hair and the other sliding up underneath his shirt to clutch at his back. He turned her in place to press her against the balcony railing, and she couldn’t help but let out a little moan.

Just then, the door slid open, and Skye poked her head out. “Hey, guys, we’re gonna cut the cake Hunter brought in five minutes, if you can tear yourselves away from each other long enough.”

“Thank you, five!” Jemma and Fitz said in unison, still wrapped around each other, as Skye shut the door behind her. Meeting each other’s gaze, they both laughed. When their lips met again, Jemma couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. Opening night had indeed been a rousing success.

  
\---

 

Six weeks later, the whole cast and tech crew had gathered to strike the set, and Jemma stood beside Anne on a nearly empty stage.

“I really enjoyed this one, Anne. You outdid yourself.”

Anne waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, it wasn’t all me. I had the best cast I could have asked for.”

Jemma smiled. “I’ll just miss it, you know?”

“Well, I’ll just have to get started on next summer’s play, won’t I?”

At that, Jemma’s eyes lit up, and she pulled a small notebook out of her pocket. “Funny you bring that up. I have a few ideas I’d like to run by you for next year’s show. You know, since we’re brainstorming.”

Anne took the notebook from Jemma. “Oh, we’re brainstorming, are we?” She skimmed the list of ideas scrawled in Jemma’s neat handwriting. “Jemma, these are _all_ love stories.”

Jemma smiled, rolling on the balls of her feet excitedly. She let her gaze slide over to the backstage door, where she could see Fitz gesticulating wildly as a pair of crew members disassembled a set piece. After a moment, she managed to catch his eye, winking at him and giggling to herself at his flustered blush. “Yes.” Her eyes met Anne’s again, and her grin widened. “I know.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Want to chat on Tumblr? I'm unbreakablejemmasimmons over there!


End file.
